


Won't Stop Fighting (Until I Get To You)

by No_Angel_Here_1402



Series: Until I Get To You [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Bobby's Panic Room, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:05:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2006904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/No_Angel_Here_1402/pseuds/No_Angel_Here_1402
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts at the pool, during summer vacation. It ends right as the first semester of senior year comes to a close; a chapter of Dean's life never to be visited again.</p><p>Or so he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How To Breathe

"Gabriel, do I have to?"

His voice is almost whiny, pouting as his brother ties his stomach trunks and examines himself the mirror. Bright eyes dart up to connect with Castiel's, glowing gold against water blue. He speaks around a cherry sucker, mouth twisting bitterly around the stick. "Look, okay? I'm going because I don't wanna put up with dad's drunken rants about you and I being a disgrace to his name simply because we prefer dick over any other given choice. If you wanna sit have _that_ as background noise while you do homework over summer break in this hellhole, fine. I just thought you could use a break." There's an angry edge to his words, a blade meant to cut deep.

Castiel grimaces at the hard look his brother's eyes had taken on and sighs. Nods. "Okay. Fine. I'll be down in a few." He stands and turns away from his desk, now covered messing in paper, books, and pens. Gabriel nods and leaves, on edge and tense, shoulders drawn together. The younger of the two watches him leave before heaving other sigh as he looks in the mirror. His hair needs a trim, it's starting to hang down over his eyes. He's pale, almost sickly so but not quite, and his eyes have exhaustion written in wrinkles under his eyes. Biting his lip, he rummages through his drawers, coming away with a pair of orange swim trunks with Celtic black designs on them as his prize. Tired and resigned, he heads to the pool in flip flops with a towel slung around his neck, black sunglasses tainting the world around him. His brother is beside him, walking close but not touching until he bumps shoulders with him.

A message to him: _I'm sorry._

Castiel hides his smile and bumps back.

* * *

"Dean, c'mon!! It's 104 degrees outside! Let's go swimming!" Sam, fourteen and shaggy haired, begs. Dean sighs. "Sammy, I got work to do, man. You know dad asked me to get the boxes in here unpacked today."

"Please, Dean? I'm roasting!" And it's true; even with all windows open and all fans on high, heat makes it impossible to relax, and the A.C. is busted so they can't have even that small pleasure. Dean breathes deeply, sweat clinging to his shirtless upper body as he shoves his bare, sheetless mattress onto the box spring bed. He's always hated unpacking; he thought it a pointless exercise when they'd be boxing it right back up in a few months. His dad, John Winchester, could never stay in the same place for too long. His job--a photographer-- required constant moving. He wipes a hand over his forehead and slides a look to Sam. Bad move on his part; he's got his trademark puppy dog beg on his face. The one he knows Dean can't fight.

"Fine, fine. Go get your swimming crap. Well go swimming, but only for an hour. Then you're helping me move this crap." Dean relents, throwing his hands up. Sam grins, whoops a loud, "Yes! Thanks, Dean!" and runs into his room as fast as if the devil himself was after him. Dean watches with a fond smile before turning back to the boxes to see if he could find a pair of trunks to use. 

3 boxes and a few strings of curses later, he manages to scavenge up an old red pair. They're wrapped around a picture of some sort, so of course he looks to see what it is. What he sees makes his throat go dry and his eyes sting. It's Mary Winchester, the day she died, before the storm at the beach hit. Smiling, wind blowing her hair into her face, framed by slate grey sky and light sand. He stares at it until he hears footsteps, and only then does he hurriedly shove it into the far back corner where no one can see it. He stands and turns away from the door, closing his eyes against the tears stinging at his eyes.Takes a deep breath. Shoves the emotion to the back and buries it.

"Dean, c'mon!" Sam hollers, bounding into the room. Dean clears his throat. 

"Yeah. I'm coming." He goes and changes and then they leave, Dean's arm slung carelessly over Sam's shoulders.

* * *

There's not many people at the pool, besides Cas and Gabriel. A mom with a girl and boy, a few adults, a few people his age. He settles down on a lawn chair and lays back, letting his skin soak in the sun's warmth. He folds his arms behind his head and breathes deeply, relaxing and sinking into the chair. It lasts about ten minutes, and then== 

"Yo, Sam, wait up! No--don't jump into--watch out--Sam!!" 

a second later--

"Cannonball!!"

\--And he's promptly sprayed with cold water , his skin now sprinkled with drops of water. 

 _So much for relaxing_ , he thinks bitterly, opening his eyes to see a guy his age with dusty blonde colored hair and bottle-green eyes jogging toward him.

"Shit, man, I'm sorry. That was my kid brother, Sam. He didn't mean to do that--Are you okay?"

 

It is the first time he forgets how to breathe. He has a feeling it won't be last.

* * *

 Dean dances back and forth nervously from one foot to the other as the blue-eyed male stares up at him, lip bitten nervously. "He didn't mean to spray you, man. I'm sorry. Hes only fourteen, he doesn't know any better." He explains, briefly aware he's rambling. He sticks out his hand. "I'm Dean. I live in apartment 1402. Just moved in 'bout a month ago. Who're you?"

The guy blinks, and slowly takes his hand, shaking it firmly. "I'm Castiel. Hello, Dean."

Dean swallows, because _holy fuck_ , that voice. Smoke and gravel and rough and warm. Damn. "I'm really sorry about...y'know." He gestures to the guy--Castiel's chest, heat rising to his cheeks. "It really was an accident."

Castiel does a small little head tilt, eyebrows coming together in a confused frown before looking down and seeing the drops of water that peppered his skin, and no, Dean does not let his eyes stay there. Blue eyes meet green. "Thank you, but it's fine--"

"Yo, Cas! These guys screwing with you?" A guy calls, and out of the water storms this guy with sandy colored hair and--fuck, is that gold eyes?--an expression ready to kill. Dean's taller than him, and truth be told, he's sure he could handle his own in a fight with the guy, but he's really not into getting into fights unless he has to so he tries to soothe the situation without throwing a fist. The guy comes between Castiel and Dean, arms crossed as he glares at Dean. "You messing with him?" He asks, scanning him up and down. 

"Nah. My little brother splashed him when he cannonballed into the water; I wanted to make sure he was okay." He answers, cool as a cucumber. If there was anything being John Winchester's son taught him, it was a good poker face; even if you knew there was no way outta getting your ass kicked. 

"Gabriel, if you don't mind, I'm sure I can handle this. Dean is telling the truth. Stop bullfrogging him and go dive in the pool again, why don't you?" Castiel peeps, blue eyes centered on Gabriel's head. He turns around. "You sure? I can--"

"You keep telling me to make friends, but you continue to chase off any people outside family that come into contact with me. Perhaps a bit counter effective, don't you think?" Castiel interrupts, and waves him away. "Go. Before I go home." Apparently. that does the trick, because after a breif staring contest, Gabriel throws a single dirty look in Dean's direction and then storms to the pool. He looks over his shoulder at Dean, bares his teeth in an angry smile, and dives into the pool, barely making a splash. Castiel sighs.

"Show off." He mutters, then turns his gaze onto Dean. "I apologize for my brother. He is...rather protective of his younger siblings."

Brother, Dean thinks, and it suddenly clicks into place. That's what the whole threat thing was. He almost laughs. As it is, he says, "Hey, no problem. I got a little bro too, man. I get the overprotectiveness, believe me."

Castiel does the head tilt again, then nods. "Yes, I suppose you would have a sort of an idea." He smiles, small and shy. "Even so, our family is not what you'd call normal."

Dean laughs. "You get a stable definition of the word normal based on the world and I'll call my Uncle Bobby a princess. No such thing as normal, man. Just boring." He looks at the time--he has another half hour before he has to go home. Anyway, you sure you're okay? My little brother didn't, like, splash you in the eye or anything?"

"No. I'm fine, thank you." Castiel says, all gravel. Dean nods and backs away. "Cool, okay. I'll, uh...I'll talk to you later, Cas." He says and dives into the pool. Water envelopes him and welcomes him, cool and soothing. Now this....This is how to spend a summer. 

Even if it was only for a few months.

 


	2. That Was Then, This Is Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean remembers why he left; it doesn't make it any easier.

_Ten Years Ago_ :

_The door opens and John's voice hollered through the apartment, "Sam, Dean!! I'm home!!" Dean sighs. It was nine at night and he could almost smell the booze on his father already. Sam throws hum a worried look; they could only hope to God he hadn't had a bad day where ever he had been._

_"I'll go deal with him. You get into bed. If all else fails, pretend you're asleep, 'kay?" Dean says softly, ruffling the kids shaggy hair. He shuts the door behind him and squares his shoulders, inhaling deeply. Ready for battle, he walks into the living room. "Hey, Dad." John's eyes are bloodshot and his stance wavers threateningly. He looks shitfaced, which he probably is. "Where's Sam?" He asks. Dean tenses. "Asleep in his room. Keep it down."_

_Anger flashes in John's eyes. "Don't tell me to keep it down, boy. I am the adult, not you. You run nothing here, you got it?"_

_Fuck. This was gonna get ugly._

* * *

 

Present Time:

Dean breathes deeply, inhaling, holding, letting it go. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at Sam. "Do I have to be here? The fucking funeral isn't for another two weeks, man; why am I--"

"Putting aside the fact that it's ** _Dad's_** funeral, and that you're only asking 'cause you're afraid to run into _him_ , I'd say yeah, you have to be here. No one knows crap about running a funeral, and you knew Dad best. You make the arrangements. I'm just here for moral support." He answers, arms folded across his chest. Dean opens his mouth, ready to argue, but deflates before he can come up with a good enough retort. Sam is right, after all. 

"Well it wouldn't be so goddamned difficult if I wasn't looking over my shoulder every five seconds cause--"

"Dean?"   _Fuck_ , Dean thinks. The same voice, smoke and gravel and rough and warm, is behind him. His whole body coils, tenses, ready to jump into action and run. It's been years; ten, in fact. So why the freaking hell could Dean still pick the guy out of a crowd as easy as if it was senior year all over again? He turns around sharply, plastering on a fake-as-fuck smile. "Yeah?"

"I don't know if you remember me...It's Castiel. From...From senior year, back in high school?" Blue eyes, damn it; it's always the goddamned eyes. Hair as black as raven feathers, hanging low into his eyes, skin tanner than before but still concerningly pale. His tone is unsure, careful. Measured, but unsteady. He remembers, alright. Every goddamned second of Castiel Novak and his fucked up family is practically seared into Dean's brain. He swallows, partially aware he;s been staring for a moment too long. Self-conscience, he clears his throat. "Oh, umm...Yeah, yeah I remember you. I--" Dean stops. What could he say, when the last words before this were fighting words; words meant to slice thick? He looks away. "I used to swim with you at our old apartments before we left." 

Castiel looks vaguely disappointed, as if there was supposed to be more. Maybe he was expecting more. Which is surprizing, because Dean was never a man of many words. Cas seemed to always know that better than anyone. "Yes, that's part of what happpened. I...You left, though, halfway through the year, right after the semester ended. Can I ask what you're doing back here?"

"Funeral; our dad's. He uh, passed. A few weeks ago, from a heart attack." Sam supplies while Dean tries to swallow his own tongue and wills the ground to eat him alive. Better fate than this, that's for damn sure. Fuck, he thinks bitingly. Of all the things to happen to him, running into Cas has to be the worst.He opens his mouth to say something, anything  to fill up the silence that has been left behind, but it's cut off when someone calls Castiel's name. A sandy haired male comes over. He has a sharp chin and light, light blue eyes, and looks as if he could use a good facial shave. Castiel smiles warmly at him, and Dean's stomach plummets. It's the same smile Castiel used to give him before he left.

"Hello, Balthazar. I was just catching up with Dean." 

Balthazar gives Dean a dismayed once over, and suddenly something must click into place, because he's then staring at Cas with wide open eyes. "Dean? Winchester? The one--"

"Yes, him. He's in town for a funeral." The sentence is rushed, on the tittering edge of a warning. Balthazar then glares at him with venom so fierce Dean thinks he may just sprout fangs and try to bite him. "You got a lot of nerve coming around here again."

Dean raises his hands soothingly. "Hey. man, if it were my choice, I'd have been gone a long time ago."

Sam makes a warning sound in throat, and, just for a second, he thinks he sees anger, disappointment, sadness, flash in Castiel's eyes. Balthazar lifts a lip in a sneer. "Yeah, I'm sure."

But then the moments gone and the flash of whatever he thinks he saw in the bright blue eyes is nowhere to be found. Castiel smiles, small, shy, and Dean is reminded of the first day. The day they met at the pool. He looks away. "Okay. Um... it was nice seeing you, Castiel, but I think we should probably go. I'm not one to push my welcome, and it seems to me your boyfriend may not like me too much," he smiles bitterly and turns. "C'mon Sam. We gotta go."

They begin to walk away.

"Wait!!" Cas calls, and fuck, was that desperation in his voice? Pleading? "Why don't you come to dinner with Balthazar and I one night while you're here? We could catch up. Talk."

Dean stays turned, shuts his eyes. Something was nagging at him, but he couldn't yell what it was. He turned around, faces the blue eyed man who single handedly ruined a good portion of ten years. "I don't think that'd be a very good idea, Castiel." He says softly. It hurts to say so, because a part of him, small as it may be, wants to go.

Castiel bites his lip. "Please?" He says softly. And shit, he's screwed. Cas has the wide eyes and bitten lip he knows for a dampened fact Dean could never deny. He takes a deep breath ans gives short, jerky nod. "Okay. Alright. How about Tuesday night? You can pick the time abd place."

Castiel nods eagerly. "Six at Harvelle's, then. Goodbye, Dean." And he leaves. 

Balthazar gives him one last sneer and follows. Dean watches them walk away with arms around each other's backs and wonders when the hell he became so goddamned stupid. Sam turns to him. "Any idea what the he'll just happened?"

"Not a fucking clue, Sam. Not a clue at all." He watches for one more second and turns. "Let's go get a drink."

He doesn't see Castiel turn back to stare at him with sad eyes and longing.

* * *

 

_Ten Years Ago:_

_The next morning, Dean wakes to the smell of bacon. His first reaction is to say that Mary was cooking, but that had been impossible since he was four years old. Sam, then? No, Sam didn't usually cook. He sighs into his pillow and finally gets up yo investigate. It's John, red eyed, hung over, but dressed, showered, and cooking bacon. The previous night comes racing back to him abstracts when it clicks. It's an apology breakfast._

_Words from last night ring in his ears. "I wish it was you." And "I hate you." And "you're a washed up drunk." And "You don't raise anyone here, I raise us."_

_He licks his lips and clears his throat. John looks up and gives a small half smile. "Hi, son "he says softly. His voice is rough from the shouting match. Dean scabs the counter. Pancakes, bacon, coffee. The works._

_"What's this?" Dean asks. The last time John had cooked a homemade meal like this was the day after Mary had died. He avoids dean's gaze. "Last night was....rough. I had no right. And I'm sorry." Anger flares through Dean. Sorry? He clenches his teeth and snaps, "yeah, I bet. Sorry, dad? Sorry is a fucking excuse in this house. You move us around the whole damn US, state to state every few months, without a real reason. You come home drunk almost constantly, and I'm sick of it!! Sick of having to clean up your mess, sock of moving every time I get settled down. I'm sick of it!!"_

_John scowl and snaps, "Sick of caring care of Sammy, too, huh?"_

_Dean staggers backward as if he'd just been hit. That was a low blow, and both knew it. John's expression softens. "Dean..."_

_"No, Dad. The only thing I'm NOT sick of? Is taking care of my little brother. So you know what? Fuck you. Go get drunk again, why don't you, asshat?"_

_He walks to the door. John calls out, weakly, "what about breakfast?"_

_Dean opens the door, shouting, "not hungry," angrily as the door slams shut behind him._

_~_~_~_

_Castiel wakes up to a four pawwed weight pouncing onto his back, four needle-like pricks sliding through his tee shirt on each one. It's his black furred, blue eyed cat Sherlock._

_There's a pause, and then heels clacking toward door. Right on cue, his door opens. "Hey, Castiel." His sister Anna calls from gia doorway. "Wake up. Luke is on a rampage again." Castiel's eyes snap open and he spins toward her, sending the poor kitten to the floor. Sherlock give a an angry meow._

_"Luke's home? Why?"_

_Anna nods, understanding his worry, but doesn't reply. Instead, she just instructs, " get up, get dressed. And for God's sake, Castiel, don't piss him off again." She leaves, shutting the door, and he hurriedly dresses into a suit. He then throws gel into his hair and combs it back before he walks to the door and opens it, right as a vase goes flying past his head and crashes into the wall. He sighs. "Stupid family reunion."_

_He waits until it seems to be safe, and then walks into the hall. There's yelling. "What, Luke, you can't accept your own little brother?" That's Gabriel._

_"Not when he's a disgrace to the Novak name! You already corrupted Castiel, I will not let you corrupt the rest of our family." That's Luke._

_"He's our brother! You can't just throw him out, Lucas!!" That's Anna._

_He walks quickly and stands at Gabriel's left, slightly behind him. "Gabriel did not corrupt anyone, Lucas. And as I recall, it was I who said I was gay first."_

_There's a collective gasp. It was expected, since who came out first was held between Gabriel and he ans no one else. Lucas steps closer, hands balled into fists and blue eyes blazing. "Is that so? Then maybe it is not Gabriel who needs to leave this household, huh? Maybe it's you." Luke's lip lifts in a sneer. "Makes a lotta sense too. Did Dad ever tell you how Mom died, Castiel?"_

_"Luke, stop it. Stop!" Anna snaps pleadingly but Luke's eyes don't waver from Castiel's. Both are locked on each other, bold defiance against towering threat. "Mom died in childbirth, Castiel. She hemorrhaged while giving you life and died from blood loss."_

_Castiel staggers backward then, realizing what Lucas was saying. His brother smile a at the horror on his face. "You killed her, Cas."_

_Gabriel turns, watching him. "Cas, I---"_

_"Tell me he's lying, Gabriel. Tell me you told me truth when you said she died in a car crash. Please, brother."_

_Gabriel hangs his head. "I can't do that, Castiel."_

_And so Cas runs. He's angry and horrified and the world around him has shifted around him, tilted until he can no longer recognize it, and he runs. Tears blur his vision as he stumbles down the stairs and races down the pathway, blurred until the colors are merging together. And then he blinks, and his shoulder rams into another's and sends him spinning, falling, flying to ground._

_There's a curse, and Castiel blinks because recognizes that voice. His vision clears and there, standing and brushing himself off, is Dean. Ange is written on his face in hard edges and a deep scowl. He turns and sees Cas and some of the ange drops. "Hey man, you okay?"_

* * *

Present Time:

They go to the bar and order a beer each. Sam's eyes stay on him, careful, cautious.

"I'm not gonna break down or explode, Sam." Dean sighs. His brother shrugs. "I dunno, man. That was Cas you just agreed on diner with. And you're just fine?"

"Yeah. We had a fling ten years ago, Sammy. That's all it was." Dean takes another drink, only to be startled and choke on it a second later. "Not what I was told back then, Dean-o." A sharp voice says behind him. Not as gravelly as Castiel's. Lighter. Older. Dean's eyes close in resignation. Fucking Novaks, he thinks angrily. They're everywhere. He turns. "I don't think it's any of your business, man-- Gabriel?" He could have sworn it was someone else. The man smiles at him, eyes glowing golden. "Damn straight, Winchester. What are you doing back in town?"

"Funeral for the old man." He motions to the seat next to him. "Sit down, man, have a drink."

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. "No thanks. What's with the 'fling' thing going around? Way I remember it, you two were head over heels, you two fought, and you ditched. I never had you pegged for a runner, Dean." Dean flinches. "Things change, Gabriel."

"Yeah, I guess they do." 

Sam watches as Gabriel walks away and then turns to Dean. "What the hell was that about, Dean? You didn't leave, dad forced you! And he was not 'just a fling,' because you were torn to hell for months after we left! You wrote a thousand letters but got returned by their dad. Dean, why the he'll are you doing this to yourself?!"

"Because okay? The night before we left Cas and I got in a fight. He and I said shit we shouldn't have and I can never take those words back! I fucked him up enough. I can't do it again. I won't." _I can't do that to him._

Sam scowls. "Dean, what the hell could you two have fought over that could tear you apart that bad?"

Dean slams his beer onto the counter and turns to Sam. His voice is an angry hiss. "He wanted to go farther, Sam. I was too afraid of what dad and you would think of me and I said no. I called him a fag. I chickened out, I called him a murderer for what happened his mom--God help me, Sam, I called him names that would make the devil cringe. I got home and dad had found our letters from when he left to bible camp. I was so fucked up already, so messed up with what had happened that I told him everything. I told him I'd been seeing the guy and that I....that I thought I loved him. Dad went berserk. That's when he got you from Bobby 's place and we packed. We left the next day. Ten years later here we are and I..." He chokes. "Fuck. I'm seventeen all over again and I can't get him outta my head. Ten years later and I'm falling over the cliff all over again."

* * *

Ten Years Ago:

"C'mon, you look wrecked. I bet you you had a hellofa morning too. Let me treat you to lunch," Dean offers, sticking his hand out. Castiel takes it and nods, accepting the offer. They walk to Harvelle's, and the scent of fries and oil and food is thick in the air. Dean leads him to a corner booth and sits across from him. "You gotta try the hamburgers here, man. They're amazing."

"Thank you, but I don't t _hink I can stomach much right now." Castiel replies honestly, his hands trembling on the table. Dean sees it and frowns._

_"Easy, there, tiger. What happened?"_

_"I...It's a long story," he admits. And it's true; to fully understand, Castiel would have to tell from day one. And honestly, that's not a trip he wants to take. Dean sits back and spreads his arms onto the back of the seat, studying him carefully before shrugging. "Okay. I'm listening when you want to talk, though. Hey, Jo. Can I have a hamburger, two things of fries, a Coke, and a Sprite?" A blonde walks over and nods, scribbling down the order before leaving. Castiel turns to Dean._

_"Thank you."_

_"For what, exactly?" Dean questions, curious and confused. Castiel smiles slightly, sad. He plays with his hands and then looks up into green eyes and says, "for not pushing me," and holds the other male's gaze. Dean looks away, gazing into air. "Yeah, well...I've had a bad morning myself. I'd hate to make you talk about something that hurts."_


	3. What Was and What Never Can Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present: Dean and Castiel have dinner and things do not go as according to plan. But it's Cas and Dean; when has it ever gone "according to plan?"
> 
> Past: They eat lunch and then head to the park, and the conversation turns heavy. And then Castiel's phone rings and the whole day goes to hell.

Present:

Dean paces the small living room, sweat making his hands clammy. It's five thirty on Thursday, and he's seriously considering backing out of the dinner. What was he thinking, agreeing to go with the man he'd ruined ten years ago? Well, he was a Winchester....Stupid was a code in his genes. He looks down and then back up and paces faster. Sam sighs angrily, clogged with snot. "Dean, damn it, calm down. You'll be fine." He offers from his snug place on the couch, and Dean shoots him a glare.

"Shut up, Sam. Why can't you come with me?"

"I'm _sick_ , Dean. Even if Ellen would let me into that place, it's doubtful Cas and...what's his name? Oh, yeah, _Balthazar_ , would want me contaminating their food." It was true. There's no way Sam was able to come with him, even if he wanted to; which he obviously _didn't_. Dean glares harder. Maybe if glares hard enough, Sam will turn into a moose. "Sam, you know we're not....I'm only here until the funeral is over. You know there's nothing between Cas and I anymore, right?" _As much as I want differently._

"I know that's what you believe. But if you'd seen Cas the way I did...Dean, it happened ten years ago. Surely, he's gotten over it." 

Present, Castiel and Balthazar's apartment:

"Balthazar, why are you upset over this? It's just dinner.I--"

"Dinner, Cas?! You threw yourself to the guy! He broke your heart, and ten years later, you come running back!" The blonde shouts angrily. "He didn't see what I did! I was the one who picked up the pieces, Cas, I know how bad you were shattered." His voice is loud, and angry, and Castiel flinches. It's not like he doesn't remember the past; thee are days he's still affected by Dean's absence strongly. But for Balthazar, his best friend and partner, to bring that up...It stung. 

"You're joking, Balthazar. I have been with you for seven years, and you still have no idea how I work." Castiel claims, appalled at his boyfriend's anger. "It's been years, Balth. I am over him. I just..." Castiel grabs a pair of dark blue jeans and a charcoal grey shirt and gets dressed in the bathroom, feeling low. He hated fighting with Balthazar. In all honesty, he hates fighting at all ever since Dean left.

"You just what, Castiel? Yes it has been years, but why are you so insistent on seeing him again after he broke your heart? He did it once, he'll do it again."

And that struck a match of anger in Castiel's chest. Balthazar knew better than to insult Dean Winchester. "No, he's changed! Balthazar, please. I don't want to argue with you, please don't--"

"You pick him out of a crowd ten years after seeing him. You're begging your partner to go have dinner at restaurant that you threw at him, and you think, even after the way the guy threw you away, that he's changed, and why, again?" Balthazar interrupts, blue eyes like fire, snapping dangerously. 

"Because I have to believe it, Balthazar!!" Castiel yells, at his breaking point. He slams his hand down onto the counter, and the bowl of pebbles and candles goes flying, crashing to the ground. What was once a thing everyone admired was ruined in a flash of anger. He watches as the blue and black and grey pebbles spread out like water. His chest heaves with anger, and he glares at his partner accusingly. "I hace to believe it, because he and I had something once that shouldn't have been ruined the way it was. Now, I have the chance to at least gain him as a friend, to find out what really happened that day. Excuse me if that's not something you'd understand. I'll be in the car. If ypu're coming, be down within five minutes." He snaps and storms out of the tiny apartment.

* * *

 Past:

_Castiel pushes a fry around the paper plate, leaving a weird grease-design in its wake. Dean watches for a second, then says, "Y'know..Fries and a Sprite always helped me with a sick stomach."_

_Cas slumps in his seat. "I'm sorry," he says, eyeing the other male pleadingly, hoping he can convey his honesty. He sticks the fry in his mouth. Warm, slightly crunchy, salty, greasy. His stomach rumbles and he realizes that, yeah, he's hungry. He grabs a few more and chows down. Dean laughs, grabbing his hand when the thid handful is on it's way to his mouth. "Easy, tiger. Fries are good, but you eat too many, and you're gonna end up with a stomach ache. Trust me, I know." His hand is rough and warm over Castiel's. "Take it easy, eat slow, okay?" Castiel just stares at Dean's face. Sharp, angular, but there's a smile there, and his green eyes and sparking with laughter. Freckles sprinkle his face. Cas wonders exactly where else his freckles are._

_Dean's hand tightens around his wrist, loose enough to be nonthreatening, but firm enough to mean what he says. "Okay?"_

_Castiel nods. "Okay," And the warm, rough skin against his own is gone, and Dean is retracting his hand, clearing his throat._

_"I have four siblings." Castiel says suddenly. Dean freezes mid-bite and swallows thickly, putting down his burger. He watches Castiel for a minute, and nods. "I have Sam."_

_"My oldest brother is Michael. He's some big time lawyer in Missouri. Then there's Lucas, or Luke, and Anna and Gabriel. Anna, she's an artist. You may have seen her work; she goes under the name of Annael Milton. Lucas owns a chain of butcher shops in Canada. He's always liked the cold. Gabe is working on opening his own bakery." Castiel says, and it's startling, because he had no intention of admitting any of this to Dean._

_Dean nods. "I've seen Anna's stuff. Really great art, man, she's talented. My brother, Sam, wants to become a lawyer. He's fourteen. I live with him and my dad. He's a photographer, moves us around every few months. My mom died in a storm on the beach when I was four."_

_"Lucas is...he's mentally unstable. He was in a psych ward for three years, and came home today. When I was little, up until now really, I was told from all my siblings that my mother had died in a car crash days after I was born. Apparently, they'd been lying. She died giving birth to me. I'm the youngest of the four." His eyes dart down to the table where his hands shake. He takes a long gulp of sprite._

_Dean leans toward him, catching his gaze. "Uh-uh. No, don't even start blaming yourself for that, man. I know that look. See, my mom died in a storm at the beach. But she only went because I threw a fit about going, I've blamed myself since then. Always thought it was my fault."_

_Cas stares into Dean's eyes. "Then," he asks quietly, "how did you stop?"_

_Dean holds his gaze, a bitter smile twisting his mouth._

_"Who says I did?"_

* * *

 Present:

Dean waits, leaning against the wall next to the door, for Cas to arrive. Balthazar doesn't get out with him. Hell, he's not even the damn car. So it was just them. _Fucking fate has to have it out for me,_ he thinks bitingly. Cas looks amazing, in a grey t-shirt and dark blue jeans. He swallows, straightening as the blue-eyed man comes closer. "Hey, Castiel." He greets softly, smiling slightly. It feels plastic on his face. 

"Hello, Dean. Balthazar will not be joining us today. Where is Sam?"

"Home with flu." He answers woodenly, sticking his hands into his pockets. "So...ready?"

"Yes. Let's go grab a booth." They walk, Dean in front and Cas slightly behind his left shoulder, into the bar-and-food-joint, and Dean is struck dumb by how familiar the whole thing is. He scans for a table, and nearly punches a wall. The only one available is the one on the far left of the place, in the corner. Secluded, quiet. And carved into it, are the words "P.O W &N." _Property of Winchester and Novak_. It's their old table. 

They go sit down, careful not to touch, and a woman, blonde and brown eyed, with a oval-shaped face and a beautiul smile, comes to take their orders. Dean doesn't recognise her....until he sees the tattoo at the back of her neck. "Jo Harvelle, is that you?!"

She frowns at him. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"It's Dean. Dean Winchester?" He asks, grinning like a fool. Her eyes widen, and she grins just as wide. "Dean!" He hugs her and scans around. "Ellen around her somewhere?"

She nods. "Yeah, in the back...Come say hi after you're done. We have to catch up! I'm guessing on a burger and fries for you? And...Cas, you want the usual?" She asks, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen. Castiel nods, a small smile gracing his lips. "Yes, please, Jo. Salad with a sprite."

"Got it. I'll be right back with that." She walks away and Dean smiles and relaxes. "That was a surprise. I didn't know they'd still be here by now. Ten years....s'a hell of a long time."

"Yes, it was. How are you doing, Dean?" Castiel questions. Dean shrugs. "Good, I guess. Went back to school and got a degree in mechanics. Have my own shop now, actually. Sam's a lawyer now. Doin' pretty good, Cas. You?"The nickname slips out like a habit. Easy as breathing. And all that tension comes right back. "Fuck, sorry, I didn't--"

"Dean. Stop. It's fine. Everyone calls me Cas these days. I go by that more than I do by Castiel, really. I'm doing alright. Balthazar and I have an apartment together. I'm a teacher at our old high school. Gabriel is very successful at his bakery, Anna is lined up to do about five different commissions. Luke is...Well, he's in prison." Castiel studies Dean and it makes a shiver go down the blonde's spine. Jesus, after ten years, the guy still had the damnedest effect on him. Blue eyes flick down to his hand, where a ring resides. "You still wear it?" The ring is a simple, silver band, with Castiel's name in Enochian etched across it. 

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Y'know, after so long of wearing something, you kinda forget it's there. I don't think I've ever taken it off, actually." Dean says softly, biting his lip. He pulls it off and offers it to Castiel. "You can have it back, if you want." It sits, warm and steady on his palm, even as his finger where the ring has lived is cold and empty. Cas stares at it, and slowly reaches out and grabs it. "Thank you."

Dean says nothing, and their food arrives. They eat in silence for a few, then Castiel asks, suddenly, sharp and fast, "Why'd you leave?"

Their eyes connect, hold, stay locked until Dean looks down at his fries and partially eaten burger. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, soft, regretful. His stomach feels light as if on a roller coaster. "I didn't want to, Cas. I went home, after the....afterwords. My dad was shitfaced, angry, the usual. He'd found our letters. From bible camp, y'know the ones. He started yelling, and I...Jesus, I don't even remember what I'd said. I'd told him I was seeing you. That I...." He stops, clears his throat. _Cas is happy, Dean. Don't do this to him._ He starts talking again. "He was...so pissed off. So angry, Jesus Christ, I'd never seen him that mad. Called me a fag, disowned me as his son. We packed up and were gone the next day. I tried writing, but...I always got them back a few days later, unopened, untouched. I tried calling, but no one answered. When I turned eighteen, I came back. But, uh...I saw you with him. With Balthazar....and I went back home with Dad. He died about two months ago. Liver shut down from all the alcohol."

"You...Dean, I....All those things you said that night. I have never been brushed off so harshly. So coldly. We were partners, and more importantly, we were friends. I did everything you ever asked, Dean. And when I finally ask for something in return...You used my weaknesses against me. You turned on me. How could you?" Castiel asks, cold and hard and hurt. Dean withers, shrinking in his chair. "I didn't--"

"Did it mean anything to you, Dean? Any of it? You know I almost failed the semester because you destroyed me so badly? You were...Dean you were my best friend. I counted on you, and you deserted me. Why?"

Dean straightens. "I never deserted you. Not once. I was there. Where were you?"

* * *

 

_Past:_

_They finish lunch and head to the park. The heavy mood is lifted and they walk, Dean with his hands in his pockets and his mouth twisted into a slight smile and Castiel smiling as well with hands behind his back, and talk about the lighter parts of their life. Castiel finds himself his loosening up with the other teen, finds himself not only willing to tell Dean things about himself but wanting to._

_"Dude, I'm serious, he was...Jesus, eight, maybe? I was twelve. And I thought it was a good idea to climb a tree, and he followed, and...Boys being boys, man, we got ourselves stuck until Dad came looking for us. Sam and I were laughing the whole way home when Dad wasn't watching us." Dean laughs, light and airy in his chest and not heavy with grief for the first time in a long time. Castiel was a good guy._

_Castiel shakes his head and goes over to the swings and sits down, small smile playing on his lips and laughter dancing in his eyes. "My brothers and I were never so adventurous. My father never encouraged outdoor playing, so we would come up with things to do inside. Our house, you see, is very large. You can imagine the numerous places to hide for Hide and Seek." He looks at Dean, who sits next to him and nods, and smiles a bit wider. "As we grew up, we all got into our own little hobbies. Anna and I loved art. I had reading, and school. Gabriel..." He hums, and then says, "yes, I do believe his habits included stealing candy when he was a child. He has a serious sweet tooth, my brother."_

_Dean laughs again. "Oh, Jesus Christ, man. What, did he charm his way outta the candy store by blinking innocently?"_

_And their eyes connect, and for no real reason at all, they burst into laughter. So hard, they laugh, that they end up doubled over on the swings, and when they come back up for air, their eyes are watering with tears._

_"Oh, crap, man, I don't think I've ever laughed that hard." Dean says, wiping a thumb under his eye and then taking a deep breath. Then, the phone rings. It's Castiel's and he fishes it out of his pocket and checks the caller ID. It's Anna._

_He frowns, flips it open and presses it to his ear._

_"Hello?"_

_"Castiel? It's Anna. You need to come home. No, actually, don't come home. Go to St. Michael's hospital. We'll meet you there." Castiel's body goes rigid, smile and laughter gone and horror crashing down on him. "Anna?" He asks. "Anna, what happened?" Her voice is thick with tears and quivers in fear and sadness. Cas can hear sirens in the background. "Cas...Gabriel has been stabbed. Luke stabbed him. Get to the hospital. Now."_

_And she hangs up. Castiel hangs up the phone, stands. His hands raise to his hair and pull as he paces. "No, no, no!!" He yells, tears in his eyes. He can't help it. He's not aware of anything, until Dean is in front of him, warm, strong hands on his wrists, eyes on his face. Concerned. "Cas? Hey, hey, Cas, what's wrong?" He asks, eyes searching the other teen's face. "Cas, buddy, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Let me help."_

_He can't breathe. He needs to get the hospital. Now. "My brother...Gabriel...he's in the hospital. I need...I need to get to the hopsital. I need to get there now. I--"_

_"Okay, okay. Come on, I can get my dad's car and drive you. Come on."_

_Dean tucks his arm around Cas' shoulders and leads him back toward the apartments. Cas can't breath, he can't think. If someone were to talk to him, ask him about the ride, or anything before seeing his brother in the bed, black eyes swollen shut with a split lip, purple, deformed, nose, and bandages wrapped around his stomach, stained red, he wouldn't be able to answer.  But he can remember the way anger had flooded through him, white hot and solid, filling him with energy, adrenaline, with hatred. He can remember going to Anna, asking in a deep, gravelly voice that wasn't his, "Anna, where is he?"_

_Anna had replied, "The cops have him," and had started to say something else, but Cas was gone. He didn't run. No, he didn't run, he knows that, but he also remembers being stopped. Dean. Dean was there, in front of him, hands on his shoulders, stopping him from getting the revenge he wanted._

_"Dean," he says evenly, warningly, "let go."_

_"No, Cas. He isn't worth the jailtime, man, c'mon. Stop for a second, Cas, think about this." Dean's talking fast, reasoning with him as Cas tries to plow on. "Cas, listen to me, okay? What are you going to school for, huh?"_

_"To become a student councilor." He states._

_"Okay, good. You wanna help the kids, right?" Dean continues, ignoring the look Cas sends him. They had been through this earlier. "Cas, look at me. Answer the question."_

_"For the love of--Yes, Dean. I want to help them so they don't go threw the things I, and others, have."_

_"Good. Now, do you think that beating the bloody pulp outta Luke will help with that? Huh? You think anyone in their right minds is gonna hire you if you've got a criminal charge on your rep at seventeen? Look at me, Cas. You really think anyone's gonna hire you if you go through with this? They won't. And then all those kids will miss out on your help and what could be one of the smartest kids there is going to end up a druggie cause you won't be there to help him." Dean reasons. Castiel stops. He blinks, looking at the other man, and snaps out of it, staggering backward._

_Dean relaxes and Cas falls into a chair. He sits next to him. Castiel rests his head on his hands. "Oh, no." He groans, feeling nautious. Dean nods. "Yeah," he agrees. "That's what I would say, too."_

_Luckily enough, both give a dry chuckle at that._

* * *

Present: 

"No, you don't understand. You said you came back when you were eighteen. That was little uner a year after you had left. Balthazar and I had not been together then. Friends, yes, but--."

"Oh, don't give me that shit, Cas." Dean snaps. "I know you weren't feeling it, but he obviously was. I was there August 1st, man. You and him were in the park, talking, and you were smiling, and the look he gave you was one I used to give you, so don't tell me I don't know what the hell I'm talking about or that I don't understand, because I understand enough. You had him long before you took him and you know it.  You weren't blind to my advances, I'm sure you weren't blind by his."

The air has changed between them. No longer cold and shy, but hot and angry and bitter. Difficult to breathe. Dean can't help the bite to his words or the satisfaction that strikes him when Castiel grimaces. He balls up his napkin and tosses it on his plate, and then stands. "I didn't come here to fight with you, Castiel. And I will be damned if a visit here, for my dad's fucking funeral, by the way, is made into something even more awful than it had to be. Have a good day." He turns to walk away, but Castiel calls his name.

"Dean, wait."

He stops, turns. "What?"

Castiel bites his lip, obviously regretting his words and actions. "Dean, please. I'm sorry." He plays with the napkin in his hands, tying it in knots, eyes never once leaving the other's green ones. "I don't want you to leave again on bad terms with me."

"Then what terms do you want to leave on, Cas? I don't know what you want from me, and I can't fix something if I don't know what the problem is. What do you want from me?" Because, despite how much time had passed, Dean finds himself wanting to do anything to get the haunted, begging look off Castiel's face. Castiel steps around the table, and walks toward Dean until they're face to face, inches apart. It would be so easy. But even now, there are undeniable laws Dean has to abide by; Castiel is not single and therefore off-limits. 

"I want to know what really happened, Dean." He says. Dean almost asks for him to repeat it. 

"Excuse me? I told you what fucking happened, Cas! What, you think I'd make something like that up?" He should have known it would happen. Known it was going to end like this, with Cas not believing him. It was almost a sure thing, so why had Dean thought things would go down differently? He shakes his head. "No, you know what? Screw this, man. I am not going to sit here and be on fucking judgement for something that happened ten years ago." He turns on his heel and leaves, hurt and anger radiating in his chest. When he gets home, he storms in, ignoring Sam's "how'd it go?" and storms to his room, throwing himself onto the bed. 

He sleeps. He dreams of being a teenager. Of blue eyes. Of a guy he'd fallen for. And then, he dreams of words never said, a life left unfinished. Tears are halfway down his face when he wakes, gasping for air.

 _Fucking Novaks,_ he thinks bitterly. 


	4. Things Brothers Shouldn't Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets fed up with Dean's sulking, and decides it's about time to take matters into his own hands. Gabriel approves. Unfortunately, Castiel and Dean do not.

“Dean, get up,” Sam commands, disgusted and unsympathetic to his brother’s wallowing. Dean hasn’t moved from the bed since he got back from the diner unless it was to eat or get a beer. Bottles of brown and green litter his night table, his room has a thick curtain of booze-scented air that hits Sam as soon as he opens the door.

“Go ‘way,” Dean snaps, but the edge is sanded off by his pillow blocking his mouth. Sam nudges his foot. “Not until you take a shower. You stink of beer, and you haven’t gotten up since you sat down. Stop the ‘Woe-Is-Me’ depression crap, Dean.”

The blonde turns to glare at him, eyes surrounded by purple bags. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. You don’t even get it.” He lays back down.

Sam gives an impatient sigh. “Really, Dean? You’re gonna tell me I don’t get it? Dude, I sat and watched Dad scream and yell at you for loving Cas, you think I can’t understand why you’d be like this? That’s a crock of shit and we both know it. You’re just moping because you can’t stand the fact he won’t believe you.” Dean’s back goes rigid, and the younger of the two knows he’d been right about Dean’s date-gone-wrong. “You think I wouldn’t be able to figure it out? I’ve been watching you since I could crawl, Dean. I know how you function.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam!” Dean snaps, louder now, spinning to a sitting-up position. His hands fist in the blanket he lays on top of, eyes sharp and crackling with anger. “You don’t know shit!”

You don’t know shit.

The same words John had said the day he had dropped the acceptance letter in front of him and said he was leaving. Sam steps back, teeth bared. Dean’s face drops. “Sam…”

“No. No, you don’t get to lash out at me because you’re too heartsick and too scared to step up and do something about it. You don’t get to sit there and snap at me because I care. Fuck you, Dean. You want Cas back? Do something about it instead of sitting half shit-faced on the bed and wishing for the past to be different. Stop wallowing and do what you gotta do to get him back. Wake up, Dean. Wake the fuck up and stop wallowing in your own self-pity.” Sam’s fists clench, so much like that day but still so different, and he backs away, turning.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” Dean croaks after him. Sam doesn’t answer. Dean wasn’t stupid; he knew the lines of “No Crossing,” even as drunk as he could be, and the words that he’d thrown at him were meant to sting. Words meant to cut deep, darts tossed like a reflex to defend himself against being layed open so much. Sam didn’t care—John had cut down him in so many ways, always mentally, never physically.

Sorry, the Winchesters both knew, wasn’t enough. And Dean wasn’t going to go farther because he was too macho to admit he was wrong. Sam’s nails dig into  his palm. It was Castiel’s fault for this; causing Dean to hurt this way.

He grabs the phonebook, looking for Novak. Annael, Chuck, Castiel, Gabriel, Raphael—all there. He bites his lip, thinking hard. Anna and Raphael were two he didn’t know so well, and Chuck was one reason the two were in the mess they were in at the moment. That left Cas and Gabriel. He wasn’t sure he could handle Castiel face to face without at least attempting to punch his lights out.

Gabriel it was.

He opens a text to the number, keys in a question, presses send.

_IS this the phone of Gabriel Novak?_

**Possibly. Who’s asking?**

_I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Dean’s younger brother. Sam Winchester._

**SAMWICH! What’s up? Dean-o still in denial?**

_Um…Look, can we meet up at Harvelle’s or something? I need to talk to you in person._

**That doesn’t sound good, Samsquatch, but okay.  I’m over at the candy shop about 10 mins away from Harvelle’s. I’ll head over now. See you then.**

_Sounds good._

Sam shuts his phone resolutely, and goes through his suitcase. A box—gunmetal gray and plain as can be—is tucked into the corner with his shirts. In it are 376 letters from Dean to Castiel, each one returned the following day; unopened and untouched. There’s also 70 letters from Bible Camp; 35 from both. Those are wrinkled, creased, dark with the grease of cars and potato chips, marked with gray fingerprints, worn thin from hands holding them so often.

Dean doesn’t even know he has these—he thinks John threw them out. Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair. He hates this—leaving Dean in his condition, leaving pissed off at him. But it was the only way—the elder Winchester wasn’t going to take the first step.

Sam waits at a table, impatient and ansty. It takes Gabriel about five minutes to stide in sit down across from him. Dark golden eyes stare at him, strictly business written across his face. “Okay, Sam. What’s going on?”

“What do you think happened between Cas and my brother? When they broke up?” Sam asks, licking his lips. Gabriel follows the movement.

“You mean after your brother ditched? Look, all I know is that the two were inseperable before the fight. Cas told me that day he was—well, he was ready for Dean. And he was going to ask. I’m guessing that’s what the fight was. Then, Cas comes home—his eyes are bloodshot like he’d been crying, and he stood so—I wanted to kill Dean, and I waited till the next day, but you guys were gone. I’m guessing Dean said no and you guys took off.”

“No—well, yeah…Kind of.” Sam slides him the box, holding his gaze firmly. “Cas did ask, and Dean said no—they got into a huge fight and things were said. Dean came home, and John, my dad, was waiting. He found these.” His fingers tap on the box. “The letters from Bible Camp. Dean was so fucked up, he admitted everything—told him he was seeing Castiel and that he loved him. My dad didn’t take it so well. He packed us up, moved us away.” He stares meaningfully at the older male. “Gabriel, Dean didn’t ditch out on Cas. He sent letters for over a year—your dad sent them back. I’m guessing without telling Cas about it. Dean was torn to shreds over it—he still is. He thinks Cas won’t forgive him. When he and Cas went here a few days ago, he came clean.”

“Then why aren’t they—“ realization dawns on Gabriel’s face. “He didn’t believe him.”

Sam shakes his head. “Not the slightest.” He pulls away from the box. “I’m asking you for help, Gabriel. You know Dean—he loves Castiel. He never wanted to hurt him.”

"Sam, I like your devotion to your brother, but Cas is with Balthazar," Gabe points out. 

"Is he happy with him? Or is it just a band-aid type thing?" 

A pause. "Good point, Sam. Good point. Okay....What do we do?"

Sam bites his lip. Again, the older male follows the movement. "Do you remember Uncle Bobby's panic room?"


End file.
